


Ambassador Fett

by dr_sturgeonman



Category: Star Wars Prequel Trilogy, Star Wars: The Clone Wars (2008) - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe, Eventual Romance, F/M, Female Obi-Wan Kenobi, Fusion of Star Wars Legends and Disney Canon, Genderbend, I have other fanfics but this has been on my dash, I'm about to tear into this fandom like a cat to a native bird, Jaster Mereel Lives, Mandalorian Culture, Obi-Wan Kenobi is Not a Jedi, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Politics, Qui-Gon Jinn Lives, Senator Obi-Wan Kenobi, Undercover Missions, ripping out just the juicy bits
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-09-09
Updated: 2021-01-15
Packaged: 2021-03-06 14:54:59
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 18,139
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26380744
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dr_sturgeonman/pseuds/dr_sturgeonman
Summary: After being abandoned on a frozen rock in the backwaters of nowhere, Obi-Wan is adopted by the true Mandalorians.
Relationships: Obi-Wan Kenobi/Quinlan Vos, Padmé Amidala/Anakin Skywalker
Comments: 63
Kudos: 532





	1. Meet the Fetts

**Author's Note:**

> I read one fanfic kinda like this but very much not a while ago and I can't find it so now I'm doing my own weird take on this.
> 
> Usual warnings and stuff about how I don't own anything, don't like don't read... blah blah blah.
> 
> *Angry Monty Python God: GET ON WITH IT

Jaster died. A fiery death crash landing on the winter moon of Galdor in a neighboring Mandalorian system in pursuit of Vizsla and his Deathwatch, where he was ambushed and shot down by enemy pilots.

The one thing he didn’t get about death though was that if he was dead why did he still hurt? Muscles sore, shoulder displaced, and he was pretty sure his left femur was shattered.

Ok, so he wasn’t dead.

Opening his eyes, Jaster found himself under the roof of a sooty cave wall. Turning on his side with no small amount of effort and pain to sit up. He found this was indeed a cave, but not your average cave full of dripping stalactites, darkness, and Gundarks, it was… ‘civilized’ Jaster would put it gently if pressed for a compliment.

Straw beds arranged in the vague form of furniture and clumsily made clay pots and haphazardly woven baskets. A pile of broken branches and kindling messily stacked away from the open fire. Altogether it was a very amateurish set up for a camp but a camp nonetheless.

Reaching for a blaster where there wasn’t one when he heard something clatter to the ground and break.

“You’re awake!”

* * *

That was many years ago. The little girl that had rescued him had grown up to be a fine Mandalorian. She and his adoptive son had his back through many battles and were key to finishing the Mandalorian civil war, though the remnants of Death watch still remained at large. He couldn’t be a prouder parent than to watch his two children help integrate Mandalore and its allied systems back into the Republic.

Now though was no such time.

“You will take off the armor!”

“I will not ad’ika.”

“So you will walk into a ballroom full of senators and Jedi dressed for war?”

“Not war- just gonna make sure they know who’s boss.”

“Who’s _boss_? This is a celebratory dinner for the newly elected chancellor of the Republic, not some seedy bar on a hut crime world!”

“All right you two, that’s enough,” Jaster said rounding the corner, his two _grown_ children looking abashed as they stepped back from each other. Jango was indeed dressed in his full battle-worn armor, though it was polished for the event at least, his helmet tucked under his arm. He looked like he was ready for military inspection rather than the supreme chancellor’s inauguration ball. Obi-Wan on the other hand looked more than ready to attend any official ceremonial event. Her outfit fitting for her moniker of ‘Mandalore’s princess’. The soft floral ivory of her silken robes contrasting with the dark naval blue of her dress, the edges adorned with geometric golden embroideries reminded Jaster of vines native to Mandalore. Her ornamental red hair reminiscent of the setting sun shining through warped glass. “Here, put this on.” He said, chucking the package he was carrying at Jango.

“What is it?” His son asked, looking like the contents would bite him if he opened them.

“It’s formal wear.” Jango made a face that looked like he had kissed a hutt. Jaster sighed in exasperation at his protege’s expression, “Look, see!” He said, gesturing to his own clothes, a tasteful mix of armor and formal wear Jaster would say himself, and he did.

“Just take off the body armor and leggings. You can keep the pauldron, gauntlets and boots, but leave the helmet or else you’ll be carrying it all night.” Again Jango made a face at which Obi-Wan smiled, daintily covering her smug expression with her hand. Jango responded in kind by putting her in a headlock, having perfected the art of noogying without damaging the intricately done hair-do long ago, before entering his personal room to change.

Laughing quietly to himself at the children, they will always be children to him no matter how big or old they get, barking out an order for them to stand at attention when Jango rejoined them in the common area. Their reaction instantaneous, their training and combat expertise evident.

“Let’s move out soldiers!” Turning on his heel to march out, Jango followed in step whilst Obi-wan shot them a look with a sharply raised eyebrow, yet to move an inch.

“Ahem.” The two males turning around confused to see Obi-Wan in all her aristocratic glory holding her hands out waiting for something.

The two warriors gave each other puzzled looks while Obi-Wan stood there impatiently tapping her foot.

“What are we suppo-”

“Guns, gentlemen, you cannot walk into a party armed without raising a few eyebrows.” She said with no small amount of exasperation. The two unholstered their blasters from their rather obvious hiding places on their belts without too much preamble, knowing it was a losing battle from the get go. Jaster grumbled, used to the situation, while Jango was less refined as he let out a litany of swears under his breath, much to Obi-wan’s growing ire if the subtle twitch of her lips was anything to go by.

She placed the pilfered weapons on the nearby table before walking past them with no small amount of smug pride in her gait.

“Ohh no you don’t Missy.” Jaster drawled, grabbing her shoulder before she got too far ahead of them, catching her off guard as she turned to him with a perplexed look.

“Knives.” He said with a smirk.

“Hah!” Jango laughed, “That’s right! If I can’t have my gun, you can’t have your knives.” Pointing a smug accusatory finger at his sister with a smile like he was a ten year old who had just tattled on their sibling.

She shot them a tart look in reply before smoothly removing the two trench knives from her sleeves, flipping them in hand to hold them by the blade before handing them over with a raised eyebrow. “Compromise?” She offered coyly.

The two men smirked to each other knowing the Felucian minx was caught, probably had far more on her then the two trench knives. But knives were much more subtle than guns the two would agree, taking the offered weapons and holstering them in their boots where hopefully no one would see them. She wouldn’t be remiss without the seven inch blades, Jango and Jaster both knew for a fact she could unclip parts of her hair ornaments and kill a besalisk warrior with ease if needed, and do so stylishly with not a strand out of place.

With security details handled, the Mandalorian group could finally depart for the party, arriving fashionably late as Obi-Wan often put it.

The event was already in full swing, taking place within one of the Atriums at the senate building. Lavish food, fancy wine, opulent decorations, and people of all kinds, specifically from the upper echelons of society that is, were socializing and making connections. Jango felt sick to his stomach to see such an obvious waste of resources, Jaster looked like he was going off to war wearing a grim expression befitting a veteran twice his age, and Obi-Wan’s eyes were alight with mischief as she sunk into her element with ease.

Jaster was already dreading the fanfare that he and his party would stir, this was their first appearance within the Republic since the official start of the civil war ten years ago, when Mandalore’s systems had been put under an unofficial quarantine until the conflict was resolved.

Heads turned as they were announced.

Was that really necessary?

“Lord Jaster Mereel of the newly formed house of Mereel, Mand’alor. Commander Jango Fett of the New Mandolorians, heir to house Mereel. Lady Obi-Wan Kenobi of house Mereel and newly elected senator of Mandalore to the Republic.” The actual kriffing announcer hired for the party- well, announced.

“What are we, part of the nobility now?” Jango asked looking back at the man stationed by the door. The poor man, unused to the way Jango assessed him for threats, looked like he was ready to turn into a pile of goo.

“It would seem so,” Obi-Wan replied, “but I don't think your manners are quite up to par on that one, oh heir apparent.” A smirk graced her lips as she elegantly snatched a drink from passing waitstaff, a grace Jango would always be jealous of but never dared to voice such thoughts, less his little sister’s head grew too big for the ornaments holding her hair together.

“Ohh hah hah.” Jango mock laughed, snatching a glass of his own from a frightened twilek who quickly scurried away once she realized the Mandalorian wasn’t paying her any further attention.

“Easy you two, I want best behavior. Obi-Wan, do your thing and make connections, Jango, watch her back for… _danger_. Above all you two, be presentable.” He stressed the last part.

“Understood.” They said in unison.

* * *

Obi-Wan snagged at the loose threads of thought that the senators' minds openly projected, her unique brand of skills picking up on mostly idle gossip and public information while her sharp ears picked up much the same, maybe the occasional blackmail but the rest was idle gossip. Jango followed close behind shooting death glares to any politician brave or foolhardy enough to approach.

“Down boy, we’re here to make friends, not have some poor senator wet themselves. Beside making us look rather unfriendly- the smell of urinated silk is quite unpleasant.” Obi-Wan quipped over her shoulder, quiet enough for the trained ears of the soldier to hear but not the tipsy senators and diligent staff wandering about.

Jango chose to glower into his drink before shooting a glare towards an overly happy senator’s drunken son. The poor lad, still wet behind the ears, slinked away in shame while Jango tried to burn a whole through him with vision alone.

He’d recover, maybe not now, nor soon, but eventually.

They were slowly drawing closer to the dance floor, depositing empty glasses on a passing service bot’s empty tray. Watching the few senators waltzing with a little sense of longing as they approached ever closer. “Remind me, dear brother, can you still dance in beskar boots? Because I would like-”

“Kriff! Why’d you stop? I almo-”

“Senator Kenobi, how good to see you after all these years.”

The infuriatingly simple robes of the Jedi Master Windu blocked her view of the dance floor.

The Jedi and her had never seen eye to eye on much, her force sensitivity and influence within the political scene coupled with her involvement with the True Mandalorians had won her no favors with the Jedi council. But then again, abandoning her at the tender age of five on a frozen rock in the far reaches of the galaxy had not won them any either from the young politician.

She had to bite back a groan of frustration while putting on a sickeningly sweet saccharine smile, closing her mind off so as to not display her inner frustration to the Jedi master. Whenever the three, or more specifically Obi-Wan, came to Coruscant for whatever reason, there was always a Jedi nearby, trying and failing to be subtle.

Entirely coincidental the order would tell them whenever the issue was brought up.

Taking the initiative, Jango stepped forward placing Obi-Wan protectively behind him, staring defiantly at the Jedi. “Problem, Master Jedi?”

“Not that I’m aware of, for now.” The dark skinned Jedi glowered down.

“Well, if you’ll excuse us Master Jedi,” Obi-Wan diplomatically asserted herself between the males stare down, “I think I see our father.” She quickly pulled Jango behind her and led him around the Jedi, knowing Jango was more likely to start a conflict with the irritating order of monks than she was, and that was without her involvement. “It’s been memorable Master Jedi, but we have more pressing matters at the moment. Another time perhaps?” Maneuvering through the crowd and taking her brother to where she saw Jaster hiding from the fawning masses in a corner, probably wishing for his blaster, or a better yet a speeder to flee the scene before he snapped some poor drunk’s neck if they asked him for another glorious war story.

Jaster gave a nod for the two to follow and led them to a secluded balcony. The Coruscanti skyline buzzed with late night traffic as people went home or to the club. Obi-Wan couldn’t help but feel sad though, looking up at the night sky devoid of stars. She missed the familiar lights above the clear skies of Mandalore but knew that she would have to bid them goodbye for the moment while her duties called her elsewhere.

“Obi-wan, I presume you’ve heard the rumor mill.” Jaster began, but not in his usual inquisitive tone. It was darker, foreboding, the kind of voice he used when he had bad news to share with them during the war, the kind of news that meant many families would forever be broken.

“Yes, but I’m assuming not what you’ve heard.” She swallowed thickly, kicking herself for not paying more attention as she riffled through what she’d witnessed since their arrival.

Pinching the bridge of his nose, Jaster chose to let out a deep sigh. Thankful that people seemed more interested in the latest gossip and the food on display to pay too much attention to the hero of the Mandalorian Civil War. “Look,” he started, instantly putting Jango on edge who squeezed Kenobi’s hand and making the hairs on the back of her neck stand straight to attention. “I need you…” Jaster floundered for words, not at all comfortable with the request he was about to make of his daughter. “I need you to _talk_ with the Jedi who fought with the Sith.” He eventually finished, guilt sitting in his stomach as he watched Obi-Wan make a face like she’d just sucked a lemon out of a rancor’s ass.

“Now hold on Jaster-”

“What Sith?” Obi-Wan looked taken aback and slightly insulted, more infuriated that she hadn’t heard of something as important as the reemergence of a supposedly dead dark order of force wielders.

“What, you can’t be serious? Come on Jaster it's just a rumor. Didn’t the Sith die out centuries ago? It’s probably just a Jedi that went power hungry.”

“Which Jedi?” She slowly broached the subject, looking like she’d just been stabbed by Felucian scorpion. And probably about to wish she was if it meant she didn’t have to talk to the Jedi, much less approach them.

“Back of the room, long hair, brown robes, goes by the name of Qui-Gon Jinn.”

“Are none of you listening to me?!”

“Jango,” Obi-Wan put a hand on his shoulder. “I’ll be fine.”

* * *

Obi-Wan was most definitely not fine, angrily storming onto a private balcony away from the prying eyes of gossiping politicians and drunk party goers rubbing elbows with high society.

Taking deep breaths in an effort to maintain her calm demeanor. Only due to years of training and a few breathing exercises did she manage to not rip her hair ornaments out and a good chunk of her auburn hair with it. Leaning on the railing that overlooked the Coruscanti skyline and closing her eyes with a deep sigh.

Alone in her thoughts as she just breathed in the cool night air, slowly feeling her nerves come back.

Standing up to readjust her outfit, gently touching the ornaments in her hair to make sure they weren’t loose or jostled, making sure everything was 110 percent in place.

“Are you okay?” A child’s voice startled the frazzled newly elected senator. The 25 year old woman spun around to find a small child wearing what looked to be Jedi robes in miniature, minus the dark cloak, sitting against the far side of the balcony hiding in the shadows.

“Umm, yes?” Obi-Wan lied, not quite sure how to handle this, “Are you?” She noted the dark cloud of malaise hanging around the young child, he had to be seven years old at most.

“Yes.” A lie if Obi-Wan ever knew one but she was more than willing to let it slide.

“Well then,” Obi-Wan gracefully covered the distance until she was standing in front of the child. “Since we’re both obviously fine, do you mind if I join you?” She called out both their blatant lies as she motioned to the spare piece of floor besides him.

The kid seemed to brighten at the prospect of company, scooting over a bit while Obi-Wan gathered her gown so it would wrinkle too much before sitting down with a relieved groan. “So what brings a Jedi youngling out so far from your _sacred_ temple?” She quipped, the sarcasm slipping out before her brain could properly filter her mouth.

Damn you Jedi, how was it possible for one of the monastic order to be both so polite and at the same time infuriating. Master Jinn was truly a match for the Negotiator, managing to be an expert conversationalist while horrendously vague about the Naboo crisis.

“You’re too pretty to be frowning, is something wrong? I thought rich people didn’t have to worry about things, at least, I used to.”

Well at least Obi-Wan wasn’t the only one with her brain to mouth filter on the fritz.

“You think I’m pretty?” She pressed instead of giving the kid any information, because despite being just a kid, he was still a Jedi.

The kid blushed, visibly turning red even in the dim light of the balcony. “I mean you’re not- **THE PRETTIEST**.”

“Oh, master Jedi, you wound me! Whatever shall I do if I’m not the fairest of them all!”

“You’re like the third prettiest girl I met so… and I’m not a Jedi master, not yet at least.” The boy backtracked.  
  
“If I’m third, then who’s my competition?”

“Well, my mom’s number two, and I guess…”

“You guess?” Obi-Wan ribbed the boy, “Well if you’re guessing, then I must have a fighting chance to take number one. Who is it?” She was absolutely _dying_ to know who her competition was.

“You probably don’t know her.” The boy waved her off.

“I probably do know her.” She countered.

The boy looked at her skeptically, raising a single young brow as he hesitantly hummed to himself. “Her name’s Padme.” He finally relented.

“You know Padme?” Obi-Wan was actually surprised.

“Yeah, I kinda helped her take back her planet, no big deal.” The bravado of this kid was amusing.

“That must have had quite the adventure, and _quite_ the story. Why don’t you tell me about it.” She positioned herself to fully face the boy, still sitting on the veranda floor. Her inquisitive dulcet tones hiding the true power that lurked below her words.

* * *

This lady was nice, she wasn't like the other politicians inside who looked at him either with disgust or indifference, she actually paid attention to what he had to say. Not only was she nice, but he meant what he said about her being pretty. When she came out onto the balcony, Anakin had made himself small, trying not to be seen by the lady who clearly needed a moment to breathe. But then she stood up, standing tall by the edge, looking out over the foreign city skyline with refined poise. Her hair and robes glimmered in the dark evening light, illuminated by the lights of the city. She reminded him of a glowing gas giant that they had briefly stopped near on their way to Coruscant, glistening in warm golden colors, the sharp needles that decorated her vibrant auburn hair branching out like the rings of a mighty planet. And as she composed herself, she seemed to radiate with an ethereal power.

He honestly didn't expect her to pay him much attention, maybe answer his question before leaving to rejoin the party. But instead she let him ramble on.

But eventually, she had to go. A tall man dressed in a mix of finery and armor coming out to find her, informing her that they had to leave.

"It was nice meeting you." She said with a smile and wave before vanishing into the crowd with what he assumed was her bodyguard.

"It was nice to meet you too!" He shouted, watching the top of her head slowly lend into the thronging crowd before he realized something. He dashed into the mass, weaving through the mess of limbs as he tried to spot her through the party goers.

"Anakin stop!" The voice of his master ordered him before a strong but gentle grip held him firm. "What are you doing, I told you to stay put." The man looked at him before eyeing the crowd that had given them space, watching to see if a spectacle would unfold.

"But I didn't learn her name!" The young boy from Tatooine desperately informed the Jedi.

"Whose name? I told you to stay put." Qui-Gon looked around the room, long hair swinging as he did so.

"Hers!" He pointed, watching as the lady from the balcony departed with her bodyguard and another man dressed similarly.

A calm mask slipped over Qui-Gons' features as he caught sight of who Anakin was talking about.

"We'll discuss this later, I think it's high time we got back to the temple."


	2. Jedi Infestation

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Jedi have invaded the home of Senator Kenobi.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A few OC's mentioned but they're not relevant until much much later.

The soup tasted awful, dreadful even, but Jaster wasn’t going to say anything to the little girl who had saved him. He watched her eat, gobbling up her portion from the dented handcrafted clay instrument generously referred to in this case as a bowl. Calling it soup was also a generous stretch of the truth, it was really a watered down mess of bland starchy tubers and questionable giblets from whatever creature the child had managed to scavenge it from on the winter moon.

“Are you- alone?” He choked out between bites of _soup_.

The girl stopped, spoon full of brown liquid halfway to her open mouth.

“I am.”

* * *

Despite the headache that had resulted from dealing with the Jedi and other politicians commending her and her family for bringing order to Mandalore’s systems, and the resultant binge drinking Obi-Wan and her entourage partook in as a result, Obi-Wan had managed to pull herself together after only a five hours of sleep (really it was a luxury considering the many sleepless nights under siege). So she sat at the breakfast table, fully prepared for either a day of dinner parties or fight with assassins, doing her favorite activity, annoying her brother by throwing him into the rigors of proper etiquette.

“Ah, yes, that choice in silverware might be forgivable if you were both blind and lacked arms.” She polished a knife, leaning back ever so slightly in her seat while she absentmindedly picked at her breakfast every now and then.

“One more comment out of you and I’ll-” Jango’s threat was cut off while he continued to stare at his greatest foe on Coruscant, dinner etiquette.

“Easy, easy! It’s way too early for you two to get into it like this. And that’s without the hangover.” Their medic, Spiff, grumbled with his forehead flat against the table.

There was a chorus of agreement from the others sitting at the table partaking in the most important meal of the day. The only one who wasn't there was Jaster, as he had left before even Obi-Wan woke up for a meeting with the officially instated Chancellor Palpatine to discuss the logistics and security details for the official signing. A purely ceremonial affair to cement Mandalore once more joining the Republic as the actual treaties and documents that had ended the decades long quarantine of their systems had happened a month and a half ago.

Deeming the blade sharp enough, Obi-Wan seamlessly flicked it back into place beneath her opulent robes where it clicked into one of her wrist gauntlets hidden under the layers of fabric. Of course she was quick to scrutinize her appearance in the shining metal, tucking a few errant strands she hadn’t noticed before back into place. Next were her nails, long but not too long, sharp but not too sharp, and flawless like the rest of her.

Many thought politics and war were two different games. And those who held that belief didn’t know the first thing about either.

War was fought with weapons on a bloody battlefield, soldiers were sent to die, and armor was donned to tempt fate. Politics were much the same. The fight was on the Senate floor, her words her blade, the immaculateness of her dress a warning sign to her enemies that she would always be ready no matter the hour. And just like soldiers firing at her in the trenches, one hair out of place and her opponents in the Senate would pounce. Just because the enemy had exchanged the war paint for makeup did not mean the enemy would be any less dangerous, or bloodthirsty.

“Fine, fine, I can see when my expertise on such delicate matters are not wanted, gentlemen,” She stood up from the table, “and lady.” She nodded to the sole other female of their skeleton crew who flippantly waved her off in response. “If you need me, I’ll be unpacking in my study.” She departed through the open arch into the main hallway, a series of grunts acknowledging her absence from the dining room.

At least, she would have started unpacking, but as she was forced to walk through the apartment foyer, she had a sense of unease. A gut feeling, if you would.

In another lifetime she might have called it a disturbance.

She eyed herself in the mounted mirror, the living room fully unpacked and ready to entertain any unexpected guests that might arrive. A good move considering the unwanted specters approaching her front door.

After checking herself out, tapping one hair ornament a smidgen to the left, she moved to the doorway, smoothing out any wrinkles in her gown before she opened the door.

With a swoosh, the mechanical entry parted to reveal Obi-Wan’s favorite Jedi, Master Windu. Accompanying the _expressive_ man was the smiling face of Master Jinn and… the youngling from the party?

“Gentlemen,” Obi-Wan raised a challenging brow, conveying her suspicious displeasure with the simple gesture, “I was not expecting to meet again so soon after last night’s excitement. To what do I owe the pleasure? Surely you’re not here to enjoy breakfast? If memory serves me correctly, the order has _always_ been one to provide for its most _esteemed_ members.” She filtered in the accusations under the thinly veiled guise of concern.

Windu growled, a barely audible noise that Obi-Wan picked up only after years of black ops. Thankfully, it was not Windu she had to deal with, for now.

“No, no, nothing like that,” Master Jinn interceded on his companions behalf, “the council just felt it pertinent to apologize for any disturbances my young padawan might have caused you last night during the gathering.”

“Oh, it was quite the pleasure gentlemen,” She eyed the abashed form of the young Skywalker, his mind a ripe harvest of open emotions. There was righteous anger, sheepish embarrassment, and Obi-Wan could vaguely make out the subtle undertones of shame directed at the young boy’s self for his actions. “If I’m being perfectly honest with you, I was not having as much fun at the party as I should have been, being so far away from home in a foreign environment, you know. If it were not for the actions of your young padawan, I fear there might not have been anything that could have salvaged the night for me.” She caught the boy's eye, peeking up at her from his short vantage, “If nothing, I am indebted for his services.” She met the padawan’s small happy smile with a slight twist of her own lips, no doubt a twinkle of mischief in her eyes.

“I am glad to hear that, unfortunately, we do have other matters to discuss with you, would you mind?” He waved his hand forward, indicating they take this inside and not stand in her doorway.

She stared at them, fully prepared for anything but dealing with the Jedi this early. She’d rather her apartment be bombed.

“But of course,” She wagged her head, conceding to the Jedis demands with little protest. Not at all happy to have them but knowing it was best to be cooperative and get it over with rather than risk anymore of the monastic order’s ire. “Please, take a seat.” And so she bid them entry, directing them to the plush blue furniture.

“Thank you,” Master Jinn took the lead, taking a seat across from Obi-Wan who strategically placed herself where she could keep an eye on the entryway to the kitchen, daintily crossing her hands over her knees, back straight. The last thing she wanted was for any of the others to barge in, Jango in particular. Master Windu hovered by the window, likely watching through the reflection in the glass, and the young padawan took a seat a respectable distance from his master, eyes refusing to leave the floor except to occasionally glance around at his new surroundings.

“Can I offer you any refreshments?” She offered, making eye contact with Croix hiding in the shadows. The demolitionist was quick to pick up on the hint and left to carry out the silent orders to alert everyone and prevent disaster.

“No thank you,” Qui-Gon declined, clasping his hands and leaning forward.

“Then seeing as I have fulfilled my end of the social contract, shall we dispense with the pleasantries and discuss whatever it is that has led you so far from your temple?” She caught Windu’s gaze in the window’s reflection.

“Yes, I’m sure you have important things to accomplish before the next Senate meeting.” The more pleasant of the Jedi masters shifted in his seat, making himself comfortable. Obi-Wan once more raised a brow at the unexpected action but didn’t comment. “As for why we are here, we understand that my young padawan has informed you of what happened on Naboo.”

At this the boy curled in on himself, wincing. Obi-Wan gave him a small smile and silently sent her condolences his way. “Yes, it was quite the tale, I must of course commend his actions, I’m sure the outcome would have been very different had he not been there to aide you.” The boy soaked the compliment up like a dry sponge in the desert and Obi-Wan was happy to see him creep out of his shell. “And I mustn't forget you of course, Master Jedi, it is no small feat to meet a Sith Lord and live to tell the tale. Such a shame he managed to escape.” She looked forlornly at the table. “I assume the order has a plan for finding such a fugitive?”

“Rest assured senator, the order shall not rest with such a dangerous individual still at large.”

“I am glad to hear it,” She nodded her head, now wondering to herself what exactly it was that brought the Jedi to her door. Surely they weren’t going to accuse her of being in league with the renegade force user? Aside from seldom having the time to plan and coordinate with anyone outside Mandalorian space, she and the young queen of Naboo were on good relations, she would daresay friends, so that motive went out the window. And while she did not love the order, she did not hate them either, merely tolerated them when she had to. “And the reason you are here?”

“While we do not believe you are in league with this dark assassin, it would be best if this information did not reach the Senate, much less the public.” It was Master Windu who managed to assuage her fears by accusing her of something else entirely.

“If that’s the case, I’m worried your worst fears have already been realized.” She informed them, tapping away at the central console to bring up the latest holonet news. Not that she wouldn't bring this to the Senate had they asked, this was a dangerous matter and, Jedi business or not, the individual had proven to be a dangerous terrorist that aided in the illegal occupation of Naboo.

“What?!” Both Jedi inquired at her, one much angrier than the other.

“Yes,” She finally pulled up the feed, the news headline reading _Dark Jedi or Sith Cultist_ while it showed what Obi-Wan presumed was the beginning of his and Qui-Gon’s duel. The blue image of the Zabrak igniting his duel blade as he engaged with the Jedi master. The feed actually caught quite a bit of their fight through the royal palace, only cutting out once the two entered the Plasma generators. The reporters were next, giving their takes before it once more cut to the Zabraki male making his getaway on a Naboo cruiser.

“Did you have anything to do with this?” Windu was quick to accuse her, finger pointing down towards the holodeck as the story replayed itself.

“No,” Obi-Wan grit out, feeling the accusatory stares from three pairs of eyes. “If you paid any attention,” She let a glare of her own clash with the bane of her political experience before a calm mask slipped back into place, “you’d have seen the date.” She zoomed in on the information, two Coruscanti weeks ago.

“We meant no offense, it’s just-” Qui-Gon tried to diffuse the tension before Obi-Wan cut him off.

“Oh, I’m sure, you’re just being safe. And considering our history…” She slowly gestured around the room at nothing in particular, it didn’t mean her implications of their tenuous past were any less clear though.

At least to the two Jedi Masters.

The young padawan however could only look at the adults in confusion as a tense silence overtook them all.

And Obi-Wan was praying to every deity she knew, even the damned force, that no one would walk in on the intense stare down.

“Thank you, we are glad that you have brought this information to our attention, the order was not aware that any information had been leaked further than rumor, and certainly not to this degree.” Qui-Gon motioned towards the Holodeck. “But if you wouldn’t mind too terribly, we need a quick moment of privacy to discuss these recent revelations.”

It was like a flash grenade had gone off in her living room, her brain on the fritz as she slowly processed the Jedi’s request. Her face was a blank mask that did nothing to hide her moment of confusion.

Eventually, it all clicked into place. “Oh, by all means!” She got up to leave, throwing her hands up in the air, as she approached one of the doorways leading further into her dwellings. “Please, use my foyer for your precious meeting to discuss this latest news with your illustrious order’s high council. It’s not like you’re a guest in my home, not at all!” She mocked, departing from her living room with little more fanfare. “You’ll have to excuse me if I do not see you out.”

And with that she left to ensure no one, least of all her brother, wouldn't barge in on them and start a brawl in her sitting room for the audacity of the Jedi.

* * *

“How many data pads do you need?” Jango groaned, stretching onto his toes to put away a stack on the top of a tall bookshelf, contemplating using his jetpack to make the task that much easier. Granted Obi-Wan was likely to string him up from the Senate building if he burnt her carpet, but that was the price he was willing to pay.

“Because those who ignore history are doomed to repeat it.” Obi-Wan informed him, sitting on her desk and reading through one such datapad. “Also, those go on the other shelf.” She tossed her head towards the other side of the room, and Jango knew she still wanted them on the top shelf.

“Okay then,” He grunted, finally getting the stack onto the tall shelf after crossing the room, “What are these texts about?”

The blue eyes of his sister flicked towards where the books sat up on high before returning towards the datapad in her hand. “Those are on the colonization of Mandalore under the Taung.”

“The first Mandalorians, the ones who eradicated the Mythosaurs?”

“So there is more than battle tactics in that empty walnut you call a head, I was beginning to worry.”

Jango made a face, used to his sister’s brand of teasing, her main form of retaliation against the dreaded noogie. “You weren’t the only one to read up on our histories while sitting in the trenches.”

Obi-Wan hummed, flicking a finger along the datapad’s surface before turning it off. She put it on top of another stack, one of many that the sibling duo had unpacked while waiting for the Jedi to leave, something that was taking surprisingly long.

Obi-Wan would have thought they would have wanted to get away from her as fast as she often did from them.

Hopping off her large wooden desk, she took the stack and deposited it on the correct shelf before grabbing another and doing likewise. Jango was quick to follow, and the two descended into a companionable silence of unpacking and organizing.

They had gotten a decent chunk of Obi-Wan’s office done before they were interrupted by a knock at the door, seeing as Jango was in the midst of an epic duel with the deadly tail of a lamp and it’s tentacled cohorts, that left Obi-Wan to answer it.

She was expecting their father back from his meeting with the Chancellor, or maybe one of the others staying with them here to tell the siblings that the Jedi had finally left their home. So imagine her surprise when she saw the Jedi padawan looking only slightly lost.

“Where’s the bathroom?” He asked up at her.

She blinked a few times, having nearly forgotten that the Jedi had brought him along for whatever reason, “Oh, down the hall and to the left, second door on your right.” She informed him after recovering.

“Thanks!”

Now this would be the part where the child ran along to go and relieve themselves, but it seemed the child had no such intention.

“Do you need me to show it to you?” She asked with a questioning glance, dragging out the syllables a little bit, afraid that the child must have suffered an accident between now and last night.

“No.” He replied simply, “What’s that?!” He exclaimed before rushing in past her. “WOAH, is that a BA-5S Mandalorian Cruise Liner!” The boy ran to her desk where the only thing on it was a replica of her personal ship, The Negotiator, in a glass bottle. IT was a gift from the Minister of Commerce back home on Mandalore that she had brought to liven things up and remind her of home.

“Ugh, yes?” Jango looked to her for direction, not liking that a Jedi youngling had just barged in on their privacy but not wanting to be the bad guy and kick the kid out.

“WOAH, no way! Have you flown on one of these!” He asked them, hopping around her desk in a bid to get a closer look.

“I own one of those.” She graciously informed their exuberant intruder.

“Wizard! Do you think I could fly it one day, I mean, if that’s okay with you?” He looked to both adults present for permission.

“Ah, sure kid, just promise you won’t break it.” Jango jested with a snort, before turning back to the bookshelf and delegating childcare duties to Obi-Wan.

“Ahem,” Obi-Wan coughed, breaking the boy from the day dream he had been swept into about flying the luxury cruiser, “But if you’re not here for the bathroom, then why are you here?” She asked him, “I doubt your masters want you wandering about, least of all my home.”

The kid stared at her with an open mouth, clearly forgetting he had an objective before his eyes had befallen the ship in a glass bottle. “Oh!’ He exclaimed once he recovered, “I never got to introduce myself at the party last night, my name’s Anakin Skywalker, Jedi padawan!” He introduced himself with a bow. “Your Obi-Wan Kenobi right? My master told me about you after you left.”

Jango had gone stock still in his little corner behind the boy, thankfully out of sight.

Obi-Wan looked down for her part, smiling at herself because this conversation was proving highly amusing to her and not at all very Jedi-like. “Well it is good to be properly acquainted… Anakin,” She only just now realized she didn’t know how to properly greet a padawan, having never been one herself, “I’m sure Master Jinn had nothing but glowing praise then?”

Anakin made a face, “I mean, he kinda just told me to stay away from you,” He bluntly informed them with a confused tone. This time, Jango made a choking noise, trying to pass it off as a cough when the padawan learner asked if he was okay.

“And did he tell you _why_ you should stay away from me?” She asked, honestly intrigued with whatever rumors the Jedi might be spreading about her behind closed doors.

“Well,” the boy started up again. Obi-Wan had a feeling he had a habit of putting his foot in his mouth and wasn’t really used to having all that much freedom to speak his mind. “I asked why and he just told me you were a busy woman.”

The senator from Mandalore didn’t know what to think at this admission. Did she think that was the only reason the Jedi wanted the boy to steer clear of her? No. Did she think that this Jedi trusted her? Also no.

Unfortunately she didn’t have time to press for further details.

“Anakin, I told you to stay put?” Master Jinn frowned, and judging by how heavily his brow dipped, it seemed this was but a single instance of many in which the boy had disobeyed his orders.

“I’m sorry master, but I had to ask where the bathroom was.” The boy lied, and Obi-Wan was delighted in which he did so, now understanding that he had come to speak to her directly.

“Well it’s time to go, so if you need to use it we need to hurry. If that’s alright with you.” The Jedi nodded to her.

“Well,” She said with a true smile on her face, something that rarely happened in the company of the knightly order, “seeing as you have already commandeered my living room, you might as well invade the bathroom. We wouldn’t want any soiled robes now would we?”

“It’s okay, I don’t have to go anymore.” The boy hurried back to his Master’s side.

“Right then, we’ll be off.” The Jedi departed with the boy in tow, leaving the sibling duo to stand in the half finished office and wonder what just happened before his bearded head popped back into the open doorway, “And thank you again for your cooperation.”

And with that, her home was once more Jedi free as she felt all three of their presences vanish.

And with the current distraction gone, the rest of the house returned to their pre-scheduled duty of unpacking and furnishing the apartment.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Maul lives! But that's not much different than canon.
> 
> In other news! I have an actual plan for the next few chapters as they'll follow pre-clone wars events to better map out relationships with these new dynamics.
> 
> Comments and Kudos are always appreciated, I never expected to get so many after posting this! And if you have any questions that need answering, hit me up in the comments I am always up to discuss reasoning behind events and clear things up!
> 
> Stay safe out there, and may the force be with you!


	3. With Friends Like These

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> With her family returning to Mandalore, Obi-Wan is in need of support from her closest friends in the senate. Now if only she didn't end up nearly killing them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> An update so soon? Even I'm surprised!

“Jaster!” The fourteen year old Jango Fett dashed towards his adoptive father hobbling through the light snow storm, several other commandos following close behind. “Did you get Vizla?” He asked about their enemy knowin Jaster would shrug off any concerns for his own well being.

“No, bastard got away again.”

“We’ll get him next time sir!” Jango gave an affirmative nod, accompanied by the cheers of the gathered commandos.

“That might be so, but for now, we’ve got a slight problem.” Jaster informed them, nudging the small girl out from behind him.

“Who’s she?” The filtered voice of a True Mandalorian commando questioned.

“A Jedi youngling.”

* * *

“Don’t get too soft Ad’ika.” Jango whispered the warning into his sister’s auburn hair, hugging her close against his armor as they stood at one of the Senate building loading docks, awaiting the transport that would separate them for a long time to come.

“Don't shoot yourself in the ass, again.” Obi-Wan shot back, returning her brother’s embrace just as tightly.

The Mandalorians were due to leave any moment now, all except one. A full week had passed since their arrival, and only three days since the ceremonial signing had taken place. Events had moved all too quickly for Obi-Wan’s liking, but she must continue on for her people.

“Make sure he doesn’t kill himself dad.” Obi-Wan and Jango broke apart, with the young senator turning to her father to bid him goodbye as well.

“I’ll do my best,” Her father gripped her tighter than her brother, nearly crushing her in his arms and impaling her on the edges of his armor. “You do us proud, stand strong Ad’ika. We’ll see each other soon enough.”

“I know dad, I know.” She returned the gesture, closing her eyes and selfishly trying to pause time to make the moment last forever.

They parted as the shuttle from Mandalore arrived, with Mandalorian royal guards departing, personally selected by both her father and the Grand Duke to protect Obi-Wan in the True Mandalorians’ absence. The same shuttle that would take them back to their home world.

“Croix!” Jango hollered as he pointed a gloved finger at the only one of their member to stay behind with Obi-Wan.

“Sir!” The masked Mando saluted.

“Don’t let her out of your sight!”

“Wouldn’t dream of it sir!”

Jaster couldn’t help the amused huff of air that wheezed past his lips before he donned his helmet and gave the order for them to move out. The group boarded the ship and readied for departure, leaving Obi-Wan behind to watch their ship vanish into the distance, blending in among the thousands of others before disappearing into the midday sky.

“We should go Madame,” The distinct voice of Croix sounded behind her.

“Yes,” Obi-Wan agreed, still looking off into the distance where the ship had vanished with a sad expression, “Yes, your right, we have much to do.” And with that final sad note, they returned to the Senate building.

“Senator Kenobi.”

“Senator Kenobi.”

‘Senator Kenobi.”

With each greeting, Obi-Wan bowed, showing deference and poise as she returned each greeting in turn, calling back to the respective Senators by name.

“Senator Shin.”

“Senator Ba-whil.”

“Senator Wheese.”

On either side of her flocked her Mandalorian entourage, with Croix close behind and bringing up the rear along with her single sole assistant Korin Kryze, a fairly distant cousin of Satine. Their destination was her official Senate offices, where a bevy of bills and scheduled meetings were to take place for the day.

All around her, thoughts and emotions wafted through the air; worry, pride, joy, serenity.

_I’ll need to…_

_What if they don’t…_

_… I need to speak with…_

_Is that Senator Kenobi?_

“Korin,” Obi-Wan called back to her friend and cohort, “Is something wrong?” For the past five minutes the young woman had been a ball of growing nerves, and while Obi-Wan could just dig through her friend's mind to find what was wrong, she didn’t want to strain herself on a day that was already going to prove stressful. That and she had something of a policy about not digging into friends private lives.

“No milady.”

“Alright then.” She turned back to face the front, coming up to the closed metal door that separated her from what was truly a mountain of paperwork. She was about to enter in the code to unlock the door before it opened on its own and she was sucked in. The shocked sounds of surprise could be heard behind her as her guards rushed forward only to smash against the cold surface, the door swooshing shut without a moment of hesitation once the senator crossed the threshold.

But Obi-Wan had been on more black ops missions than most seasoned veterans had before she turned sixteen. Pushing off on instinct, she surprised her would be kidnapper and pinned them to the floor, a long stiletto knife pointed at their jugular, drawing but a single bead of blood.

“If you had been anyone else-” Obi-Wan glowered down, heavily debating whether she could get away with murder.

“I’d be dead by now.” Senator Bail Organa finished the line she had used on him many times before, she couldn’t see him in the darkness of her office, but she could sense him through the force, and more importantly, feel his calm heartbeat thrum under her deadly touch.

There was the sound of something being fried before the door was manually forced open by her guard, light flooding into the dark room from the hall. “Obi-Wan, is everything all right!” Croix was the one to come in, blaster at the ready.

“For now,” The would be victim got to her feet, helping to pull her old friend up after dusting herself off and shooting him a displeased glare. “I’m assuming this is why you were so worried, Korin?”

“Yes, Madame.” Her aide answered, guilty and abashed.

“It’s not her fault, we’re the ones who put her up to this.” Senator Organa came to the young Mandalorian’s defense.

“We’re?” Croix growled, obviously miffed with the antics of the Senator from Alderaan that could have potentially sparked an intergalactic conflict between Mandalore and the Republic.

The group of Senators then felt it was the optimal time to flick the lights on and excitedly yell “Surprise!” Only to be met with a blaster rifle at the ready and two Mandalorian force staffs.

There were five beats of silence with both parties staring each other down. The Mandalorian entourage still at the ready and prepared for a fight, the senators stuck in an awkward stalemate as they tried to come up with something to break the tense silence, and Obi-Wan was sorely tempted to bust out the Rodian Whiskey she had hidden away in a secret compartment under her desk.

It was Senator Organa, the architect of this clusterfuck, that broke the tension, “Look, I’m sorry for the surprise, but we knew you wouldn’t have allowed us to throw a party for you if you had known beforehand.” He placed a hand on the senator from Mandalore’s shoulder. “And we also knew you would be needing support with all the changes still happening.”

Obi-Wan sighed, letting out all her pent up frustration with the one simple gesture, “Thank you Bail, it does give me comfort to know I have friends like you so far from home.” She acquiesced, allowing the older man to pull her further inside as the original joyous mood returned now that the senators knew they wouldn’t die, or worse, be lectured by Obi-Wan’s sharp silver tongue. Her entourage also relaxed, holstering their weapons and taking their stances around the room, following the protocol Jaster and Jango had hammered into them before giving them their current assignment.

“So how are things on Mandalore? Last time I visited, you and me ended up running all over the capital city trying to escape assassination attempts.” Bail led the dignified woman over to an open seat while the other senators milled about, a few service droids offering drink and food. Quite a few took to gawking at Croix who had yet to remove her armor.

“That was five years ago, I do hope you're not expecting as much excitement on your next visit.” She amended her statement with a small airy laugh, accepting the glass of wine offered to her by Senator Mothma.

“I should hope not,” He joined in her laughter, no doubt recalling their less than glamorous departure from the capital of Sundari on a waste management ship, “but I’ve heard so much has changed, and not only for Mandalore. Is it true you’ve established your own trades guild?”

“Not mine, but yes,” She sipped at her wine, noting the flavor to be Mandalorian in origin but couldn't put her mind on specifically where.

“It’s Concordian, one of their newest vintages. I thought you might enjoy something new, but also familiar.” Her friend informed at her questioning look.

“Thank you. Now how about I tell you about all the new things Mandalore has to offer, aside from wine?” She twirled the glass in hand, holding it up to the sunlight to better appraise the amber liquid.

“It would be my pleasure.”

In all honesty the new trade guild established on Mandalore was meant to help rejuvenate the economy and preemptively weaken any interference from the Trade Federation now that their borders were open. At the time, Obi-Wan and Satine had only hoped to pump more money into their economy... but now she was glad after the disastrous ordeal with the Trade Federation’s illegal blockade of Naboo.

A few more senators joined them, such as the illustrious Orn Free Ta of Ryloth, the wise Mina Bonteri of Onderon, the honorable Kin Robb of the Taris system, and many more. And soon the conversation turned from discussions on new Mandalorian policies and infrastructure to old friends simply catching up.

“There is a delegate from Naboo here to see you madame.” Korin whispered quietly into her ear so as to not disturb the other senators who were in the midst of their own conversations regarding current galactic policy.

“Let her in.” She waved her aide off.

“Is something wrong?” Bail asked her once she handed him her now empty glass.

“It seems we have one more to the party.” The Mandalorian blithely informed him with a nod of her head, almost conspiratorially. “Anything you want to share with me?”

“No, everyone who knew is already here.” He told her, looking genuinely confused.

Obi-Wan hummed but said nothing more, going to greet this new mystery guest.

Korin nodded at the open door, returning to the party and allowing Obi-Wan handle the situation.

“Can I assist you?” She asked, immediately recognizing the vibrant orange robes of the Naboo Queen’s handmaidens.

“Queen Amidala of Naboo wishes to give her thanks in regards to Mandalore’s relief aid following the crisis with the Trade Federation. Many more lives would have been lost had your people not been there to help when they did.” The handmaid bowed her head.

“And can the queen not come before me, a representative of Mandalore, herself?” She raised her chin to look down at the smaller woman. “I find it highly offensive considering the current affairs of my home and the generous sacrifices we made to help Naboo through this crisis.”

The party was silent, the gathered senators having not expected the outburst from the usually gracious and polite Senator from Mandalore.

The two figures remained as they were, with Obi-Wan staring down imperiously at the young woman who remained in her bowed position, quivering under the Mandalorian politician's stern gaze. But a smile slowly creeped its way onto Obi-Wan's face, followed by an amused snort that quickly broke into full blown laughter along with her companion, and the two quickly embraced one another in a strong hug.

“It’s good to see you friend, we were all worried once word reached us. I only wish I could have done more.” Obi-Wan said, holding the girl at arms distance to appraise her for damage.

“You did all you could, friend.” The girl-queen retorted with a smile of her own. And soon everyone was quick to greet the queen and offer the same reconciliations that Obi-Wan had done.

Taking the young Queen by the arm, Obi-Wan led her away from the crowd of senators to an open seat where they could chat in semi-privacy.

"Tell me, did you really use a decoy for the entire time?"

"I learned from the best."

"I am hardly the best, and besides, Croix does all the work." Obi-Wan deflected from her favorite tactic of deceit.

"It's true," Said Mandalorian butted into their conversation, leaning over Obi-Wan and resting her forearms on the back of the armchair. "The hardest part is getting the head right, you could land a star cruiser on it its so big." The mando tapped the side of her helmet, no doubt giving the seated politicians an exaggerated but percipient expression under her darkened visor.

“How is Naboo doing?” Obi-Wan asked after giving the armored woman a good shove, sending the woman off on her way, voice laden with deep concern.

Padme looked at her hands, a deep frown marring her features. “Not good I’m afraid. There are so many dead, not only humans but also Gungan.” She admitted, “And while we mostly lost lives, much of our basic infrastructure systems were destroyed or damaged. It seemed that the Trade Federation felt that if they couldn’t have Naboo, no one could.”

“Have you brought this to the Senate?”

“No, that’s what I came here to do. The trial for Nute Gunray is to be conducted in a few months time, but the councilors wanted to gather their evidence now.”

“Well then,” Obi-Wan raised a glass to the young queen, “to justice.”

“To peace.” The queen retorted, the two clinking their glasses before sipping on their wine.

Only a moment later did Obi-Wan make the realization, snatching the glass out of the surprised grasp of the fourteen year old girl.

“Right,” She coughed, having choked on her own drink mid realization, “You're still not of age!”

“I’m old enough to rule a planet but not old enough to drink?!” Padme asked in mock indignation.

“Well,” Obi-Wan deposited the glass on the coffee table nearby, “I didn’t vote for you.”

“Oh, is that your answer then?”  
  


“Yes, yes it is. But let’s not talk about the age requirements to run a planet or the drinking age as it is. How about we talk about crippling the Federation so this doesn’t happen again?” She asked with a coy tone and a mischievously raised brow, draping herself over her chair and making it seem a throne with simply her mere presence.  
  
“I’m listening.”

* * *

Padme was seven when she first met the future Senator Kenobi. The woman had come to their home world of Naboo on a mission of mercy, flying from planet to planet in a bid to find relief for the starving people of Mandalore who had suffered greatly under the newly enacted quarantine by the Galactic Republic. Her family had hosted the eighteen year old Mandalorian for the three weeks she had stayed on Naboo, her father readily agreeing to the plight of the Mandalorian people and sponsoring her meetings to the then queen and her court. And while they hadn't interacted all that much during her stay, the then Padme Naberrie would forever have the image of the dark clothed woman enshrined as the pillar of strength. With her auburn red hair cut short at the neck, the calculated and cat like way with which she moved, and her eyes, her steely blue eyes far older then they had any right to be.

And despite all the hardships she had suffered, despite all the atrocities she had witnessed, despite the painful loss of both family and friend, she still remembered how to smile. It was gentle then, never full, and never from ear to ear, but it was no less beautiful. And just like those long ago memories, Obi-Wan's smile lit the room better than even the Coruscanti sun. Except now, it was from ear to ear and accompanied by her gentle laugh.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I personally image Croix speaking with a french accent, or rather a twi'leki accent in the Star Wars universe.
> 
> Comments and kudos are much obliged.


	4. The Galaxies Opera House

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> More of Obi-Wan's past is revealed

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm still working on this, but this chapter was a stubborn one in the making.

It was itchy, it was hot, and it was tight and uncomfortable.

But it was hers, actually hers.

The rough fabric of the old noble wear was so unfamiliar to the simple robes of the Jedi order. She pulled at the collar, trying to open up enough room for her to breath as she sat beside Jaster on one of the New Mandalorians' ships after being released from the medical staff.

The man chuckled at Obi-Wan's attempts to breath, reaching behind her to unclasp some of the restraints that held it all together. "I know it's uncomfortable, but it's all we have in your- uhm, size." The man chuckled, still not quite sure how to address a lady's weight "Don't worry, we'll find you something else that- uhm, fits better and is more comfortable later." He scratched the back of his bandaged head.

Despite her severely diminished frame after a year of near constant starvation, the ancient and outdated noble wear that the True Mandalorians had hidden away for some strange unforeseen reason at the back of the cargo hold seemed to be designed to be as tight and constricting as possible. But despite her discomfort from the restricting gown and the now somewhat loosened corset, she loved it all the more because it was **hers**. Jedi didn't have personal possession, not many at least, and youngling even fewer. But the True Mandalorians had been so kind, giving her food and medicine, not because she helped their leader- though that probably helped, but because they actually cared for her.

And this dress was proof of that to the shadow of a five year old.

She ran her tiny bony hand over the fold of her dress, trying to get more comfortable without wrinkling or damaging the precious, although admittedly uncomfortable dress, never letting go of her savior's hand as smiled up at him.

* * *

Obi-Wan stood alone in the lobby to the Galaxies Opera House on Coruscant. Dressed in opulent robes soaked in dark, almost black, navy blue outlined and detailed in a soft coral of the same base color, with iridescent silver ornaments decorating her hair. Perhaps most striking was the fashion piece decorating her back, an array of spines arranged in a corona that was visible even from the front.

The goal from her designer had been to resemble a comet... Croix had made the helpful comment that Obi-Wan looked like she was trying to poke someone’s eye out with her presence alone. 

The young senator was entirely sure that was a compliment coming from her long time friend and current guard.

Obi-Wan was just glad that she could breathe in this piece, her one requirement was that she could move somewhat freely and conceal a variety of weapons on her person without them being detected. The only reason she put up with metal corsets was because they not only helped trick simple metal detectors and various scanners but also because they were specially designed to come apart and serve as long sharp instruments of death.

But enough about her, she was here to see _Mandalore: The War Among the Stars_ , made by some poor screenwriter who had to flee with his entire family during the civil war due to political reasons after writing some controversial pieces that put him on the Death Watch’s radar. She had read from the reviews that it was a fairly accurate portrayal of events following Jaster’s rise to Mand’alor and the political succession of the New Mandalorians under the grand duke Avath Kryze, the uncle to Satine.

But seeing as she had lived through the conflict for since her youngest years, she would be the final judge of those claims.

It was actually kind of ironic that the playwright had fled to Naboo to escape the conflict, only to get caught up in the Naboo crisis five years after his self imposed exile.

She had actually met him on the planet during one of her mercy missions to petition the then King’s court for relief aid, and had been one of her most outspoken supporters.

So she was more than glad to receive not only a correspondence from the man, but an invitation from the man himself to see his production, free of charge for one in one of the finest boxes.

“Senator Kenobi?” A grandfatherly voice from behind caused her to spin around. It had been a while since she’d been snuck up upon. If Jango found out she was getting soft she’d never hear the end of it.

Internal debate over whether she had truly been caught off guard or if her senses had dulled since taking her cushy position in the inner rim aside, her surprised features came to meet the smiling afable face of the Supreme Chancellor.

Obi-Wan had nothing against the man, she had actually been surprised that he had been elected chancellor, though no doubt a large swing of the final vote came from those sympathetic with Naboo. The man’s political career had been marred with little controversy and he had mostly been a simple vote in the Senate. He had rarely pushed for legislature and the last piece he had pushed had been one of the contributing factors behind Nute Gunray’s occupation of Naboo as protest for restrictions in the free trade zone. The trial for which was still ongoing.

It was probably this and his centrist leaning that had helped build him a strong base among those undecided to not vote for Senator Bail Organa, the man Obi-Wan would have thought to win as he was more well known and respected among his fellow senators, even those who were staunchly opposed to the man’s peaceful ideology.

But deep down there was always something that unsettled her about the man. He read the room like the best, managing to keep out of debates but still have a considerable pull in the outcome through subtle suggestions and hints. He played the game as best as anyone, even better than Obi-Wan she would admit. Most people were quick to put aside some of his more controversial bills and statements in favor of respecting his grandfatherly appearance and the still fresh catastrophe on his homeworld.

Regardless of her own opinions of the man, Obi-Wan was never one to forget propriety, going into a slight bow and addressing the man.

“Chancellor Palpatine, I would have expected for you to see the show's premiere!” She remarked, fully knowing the Chancellor was an avid fan of the theater’s productions, going so far as to own a private viewing box.

“I’m afraid I’ve been far too busy my dear with the latest debates in the Senate, something I believe you are all to aware of?” He smiled at her with a slight inclination of his head.

Obi-Wan coughed, not entirely expecting to be accused of holding the man up with her latest batch of bills for better fiscal responsibility from the Senate.

“Yes, well, duty comes first and all.”

“Yes, yes, such is the fight for all civil servants.” He chuckled, looking at the ground, “Tell me though, would you terribly mind doing this old man the pleasure of keeping him company, just for the show.”

She was caught, stuck between her own desire of wanting to view the show privately but knowing that too many eyes were already on her and the Chancellor. And with the show so close to starting, she didn’t have time to perform the convoluted dance that was politely refusing and asking if he was sure for several rounds before they could part on good terms.

“It would be my pleasure,” She smiled graciously, waving her hand in indication that he should lead the way.

* * *

The show, as it was, was not too terribly off brand for the events that had taken place.

Dramatized?

Yes.

But inaccurate?

Far from it.

She was actually impressed with the playwright’s ability to gather information, and while yes it was all public information, it was a little unnerving to the degree with which he portrayed what was essentially her life on the stage for all to see.

Or rather was about to be as she was set to come in during the second act.

“I’m a little surprised you haven’t been mentioned at all yet my dear.” Chancellor Palpatine spoke beside her without taking his eyes off the accurate costumes.

Obi-Wan was mostly glad that the man had remembered to avoid the taboo that was wearing the same marks and sigils that decorated a warrior's armor, though the costume department was towing the line. But seeing as everything was highly dramatised and the costumes themselves were these brightly colored monstrosities that would have had them killed from a dozen clicks easily, she was willing to let it slide.

“Hmm, yes?” She was broken from her critique of the costumes by a gentle tap from her companion.

“I said, are you alright my dear?” Chancellor Palpatine looked at her in good humor, reclining back into his seat while keeping watch of her from the corner of his eye.

“Oh, yes, quite alright.” She forced a chuckle, bottling up the discomfort that was growing inside her as she anticipated her stage counters appearance. They were wrapping up act two or five, with Obi-Wan set to appear in act three. It was an interesting sensation, Obi-Wan was no stranger to be talked about or discussed in public forums, but something about her life being displayed in such a raw way had set a flight of butterflies in her stomach.

“Does it have anything to do with your appearance on the stage, hmm?”

Obi-Wan winced, sucking on her teeth before replying, “Is it that obvious?”

She received a chuckle in response. The two returned their attention back to the performance below as Jaster’s fighter was shot down, the scene going dark before he awoke in a “cave” and met her mini-me.

If only her little hovel had actual furniture, then maybe that year spent on a frozen waste would have been worth it.

From there the story was history, she met the True Mandalorians, traveled with them for a few years and integrated herself amongst them, learned some of the language and built something of a rough patchwork family. The only mention of the Jedi was at the end, when they received word that they would not take her back in after three years presumed missing, not even dead, missing.

She didn’t know what hurt more than, that the Jedi had so easily written her off, a child, and not even spent the minimal effort to try and find her, or that they so easily cast her off a second time once the True Mandalorians had found the opportunity to return her to her _family_. Only for her to find her true family in the end.

If only it had been such a fairy tale ending as it sounded.

But despite time, the scars still stung now and again.

“I didn't know you were once a Jedi!” His excellency exclaimed, eyebrows raised high above his brow.

“I never was, I was a youngling, too young to remember much before I was tossed aside.” She couldn’t help the vitriol that spilled out, normally able to keep her emotions under wrap but finding the old wounds reopened after the performance. There was more to come with the Jedi later on, but Obi-Wan couldn’t care about that, it was this one moment so long ago that still felt fresh.

“I’m sorry, I did not know.”

She took a deep breath, in through the nose and out through the mouth, “Not many do.”

The chancellor was quiet for a moment, weighing whether to continue speaking or to allow Obi-Wan a moment to collect her thoughts. The next act could not begin soon enough.

“I had heard the rumors about your… gifts, but I had never quite believed them.” Obi-Wan laughed, a hollow empty laugh as she gazed at the darkened stage.

“If you are thinking of anything Jedi-like I must inform you my skills are mostly parlor tricks at this point.” Not entirely true considering her more… specialized skills that would be frowned upon by not only the Jedi but many others if the truth were to get out.

“Mostly?” The Chancellor smiled bemusedly at her.

“Yes, well, juggling knives in the air can be a particularly nasty trick on the battlefield.”

* * *

She was a tiny thing, starved and bony, more fragile than a freshly hatched baby bird, shy and frightened. It was a miracle that she had survived as long as she did alone and isolated in this backwater of the backwaters.

She had yet to wander far from Jaster, always hiding behind his leg whenever one of them approached. It had made it hard to heal the man's wounds, and that was already without a bacta tank to deal with the major lacerations and the kriffing broken femur. Their medics were able to treat him, but the little Jedi youngling dressed in dirty rags had never once left his side, making the procedures all the more difficult.

Jango didn't think that the girl was a spy or a death watch sleeper agent, but his life had been hard and he was slow to trust.

But he knew a that look in Jaster's eye, it was the same one he caught every now and then when his adoptive father though he wasn't paying attention.

The man had already formed a bond with the little gremlin, and Jango knew that even if they weren't hunting Death Watch, that it was going to be a long time before they could properly return her to her monastic order.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always comments and kudos are much appreciated.
> 
> Thanks for reading and I hope to see you soon!


	5. Family of Choice is Still Family

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> People have been waiting for Quinlan, but I know what you all want is more Korkie Kryze!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I keep forgetting to put dates for reference, everything is after Episode I: The Phantom Menace
> 
> Last chapter was 1 year
> 
> This chapter is about 2.5 years

Jango... had a problem.

A tiny five year old Jedi youngling sized problem that had attached itself to his leg and refused to let go.

Jaster had been too injured to go into town, and by that Jango meant no one was going to let him wander where trouble could find him until his leg wasn't broken.

So in his stead, Jango had walked through a neutral town where they were positive the Death Watch had no one and bought much needed supplies.

Food, ammunition, medical equipment such as the all healing bacta patch, and of course clothing for their tiny temporary addition to the True Mandalorians.

The girl had looked at the clothes and accepted them graciously, but what truly attached her to Jango had been the little trinket he had picked up for her. It was hysterical at first how she stared at it with a dead fish stare, not knowing what it was or what to do with it.

Once he had had enough, Jango snatched it from her limp grasp, "Here!" He unclasped the hook before wrapping the cheap little accessory around the tiny girl's neck.

It was a necklace, a little Concordian effigy of a native saber cat. A tiny wooden figurine on a necklace meant to ward away misfortune or disease or something else equally superstitious.

"Don't do that." The young Mando told the little girl when she looked up at him with those big innocent blue eyes.

"For me?" She questioned, not at all believing that it was for her. He definitely didn't stare at her tiny bony fingers that desperately clutched at the wooden trinket like it was about to vanish from her grasp. Or hw her giant eyes began to water. Or the slight tremble of her lips

"Yeah, for you." The teen rolled his eyes at the obvious, totally not so he didn't have to look at the tiny creature that begged to be hugged and swaddled in eighty blankets and told everything would be alright, before finding a five year old Felucian monkey thoroughly attached to his shin.

* * *

Most people who expected a shipment from off world had to wait months before they could get it. The order form first had to be processed off world from wherever you were getting the thing. Then the thing had to be taken to a company that did off world deliveries. Then if you had gotten that far the officials and customs for the planet you were on had to check the package every which way to make sure it wasn’t contraband, deadly, illegal according to galactic law, as well as ensuring it brought no joy to the recipient by the time it made its way planetside.

But Obi-Wan, being the corrupt little senator she was, simply put down her official stamp labeling the cargo as necessary diplomatic cargo. And thus, her shipment could arrive early and, as a bonus, be directly received by her on the docks of the Senate building after she had finished her work for the day and made at least three of her political enemies/rivals wet themselves during open floor discussions.

So impatiently she stood on the open dock, tapping her index finger against her dress while humming under her breath along to an old Mandalorian child’s song. One of the good ones where you sang it in Mando’a and it was about skinning something or other. The newer ones were in actuality the old ones but with more flowery words that were deemed more age appropriate for their audiences.

It was nostalgic, singing as she waited, Croix joining in behind her when she remembered a line or two but mostly remained silent. She smiled as the memory from when she was a little girl huddled up to her Buir as he tried to help her to sleep surfaced.

Of course most children didn’t listen to those songs with the sound of intermittent heavy artillery shells pounding against the walls of the temporary base they were occupied in.

But hey, she turned out fine…

Mostly…

She stopped once the transport ship came into view, slowly gliding down from the Coruscanti skyline just to torture the usually calm and colllected senator.

For about a month now she had had a severe hankering for this really specialized candy that was only sold out of this tiny family run sweet shop back on Sundari. That meant that they didn’t make special deliveries, even for war heroes, so Obi-Wan was forced to get someone in the Mandalorian capital to go and pick up the sugary sweets in person.

They were these special little things that she had yet to find anywhere else, even within Mandalorian space. She had gone so far as to scour the rest of Sundari only to come up with nothing, being forced to beg and plead with the old matriarch of the sweet shop and being denied the recipe, which… fair, but had also been denied special orders which just felt like a personal attack at that point.

They started off as this bitter spicy flavor before melting away after a while to this ridiculously sweet ginger taste that lasted long after you had finished off the actual candy.

The doors seemed to open slower than the ship had descended, and Obi-Wan had to hold herself back from rushing the ship and tearing off the durasteel metal.

Of course, the candies were only the first half of what she was excitedly waiting for. The second was-

“Korkie!” Obi-Wan snatched the blond blur that ran off the shuttle the moment he could get under the doors, the sound of six year old laughter ringing out across the somewhat empty platform. The few senators, senate guard, and staff glanced at the otherwise undignified scene but didn’t comment, much to afraid of Obi-Wan paying them a personal visit when witnesses would be in high demand.

Behind him she could hear the bickering of Satine and her dear brother as they exited off the shuttle.

Obi-Wan was already going to spoil her favorite, and only, nephew, but if her brother and best friend had spent the entire trip debating policy and ideology (which was a kind way of saying insulting each other) she was really going to have to up her game to make up for the abysmal company escorting the tiny  _ ade _ .

Of course, gossiping senators and random staffers weren’t Obi-Wan’s only audience. She didn’t need the force to feel the eyes of her adoring fans, the Jedi order, from where they likely thought they were being inconspicuous.

But for now, she had a nephew to spoil!

And candy, can’t forget the candy!

* * *

Anakin couldn’t quite get the council’s obsession, because that’s what it was, with Senator Kenobi.

He now knew she was force sensitive, and had for a time been really embarrassed about his first interaction with the Mandalorian politician after he learned that fact.

There were still some things he didn’t quite get about the big picture, mostly understanding Mandalore-bad, Jedi-good from the history lessons he struggled to stay awake through. But from his perspective, Obi-Wan Kenobi was a normal woman by any means, a senator, but otherwise your average citizen.

She didn’t go around swinging a lightsaber or force throwing people. There were no mind tricks or even under the table dirty deals.

She was just a normal person doing normal things.

She goes to work at the Senate, debating something or other that flew far over Anakin’s head despite master Qui-Gon giving him a play-by-play of the things being said and their likely consequences.

She went home, a boring affair in which they staked out her senate apartment in the rare, and he meant  **RARE** , event she left for some reason or other.

She attended boring dinner parties and  _ soirées _ that Anakin dreaded going to as he and his master more often than not ended up as objects of entertainment to be gawked at. Though he would admit it was nice when his master got distracted and the Senator he should be watching would sneak him a snack and talk to him like an old friend, letting him rant or get off whatever trouble he had before departing after a few words of encouragement before his master returned.

Though he had a sinking suspicion the man knew what the two were doing when they thought he was preoccupied.

But watching the joy that readily spread across the usually reserved face of the Senator was something of a bitter pill that Anakin had to swallow, observing what was essentially a loving, happy family be reunited.

The padawan could feel his fists tighten as the image of the senator and child bled away in his mind’s eye to him and his mother.

The promise he made to her still fresh on his tongue despite passing his second year away from Tatooine.

The shuffling of his master beside him in the shadows broke him from his memory, temporarily distracting him from the joyous reunion he had been subjected to, already knowing what Qui-Gon was going to say after being told a million times before but nonetheless forced to listen to it once more. “Be mindful of your emotions Anakin.”

“Yes master.”

“You’re letting them control you, find your center, remember your training.”

“Yes master, sorry master.” The young padawan mumbled, looking down at the hem of his tan robes and trying to push his feelings down to a more manageable level.

Once he had done that, he and his master returned to stalking, because there was no other word for following a normal woman around as she went about her mundane tasks. The two watching as she and her entourage explored the safer parts of Coruscant and visiting a variety of tourist destinations, with Obi-Wan either holding the small child’s hand or the small child himself the entire time.

“Tell me Anakin, do you know why we often take this mission?” His master asked them when their target had stopped to enjoy lunch at a park.

“Because it’s boring and nothing ever happens?” He really didn’t know, aside from Master Jinn’s rather unique interest in the Senator from Mandalore, an uncommon one at that amongst the monastic order, he often speculated that it was to keep him busy and get him out of his room.

His master chuckled at Anakin’s little act of rebellion at the admittedly boring task, placing a hand on his shoulder and directing his gaze to the seated party on the grassy ground. “Reach out, open your mind. What do you see?”

Anakin rolled his eyes but did as he was told nonetheless. He reached out with the force, touching every living thing around him and allowing the sensations to wash over him, every breath, every movement, and the emotions of higher minds. Joy, serenity, contentment, and slothful idleness as the park goers enjoyed their day on one of the small natural patches of green amongst a sea of steely grey and crystal glass.

Focusing on their suspected dark sider, Anakin felt… nothing.

She was completely ordinary in every way.

“Yup, it’s official, she’s completely normal.”

“And?” Master Jinn raised an amused brow, gesturing further for Anakin to observe.

So Anakin tried again, reaching out with his senses and practically feeling the senator up with how thoroughly he checked her presence in the force. As expected he felt her content joy and the usual calm that seemingly permeated from her form at all hours. Though today she seemed extra at ease as he felt her every laugh and raucous smile as she chatted with her friends and family.

Again he could taste that bitter sensation on the back of his tongue.

The young Jedi didn’t know what was worse, that he was angry at someone else’s joy, or that he was resentful towards who he considered a friend for being able to reunite with her family after months, sometimes years, spent far away.

He growled, “There’s nothing, she’s just every bit as ordinary as everyone else!” He frustratedly turned away, no longer focusing on anything in particular and breathing heavily. It had been a rough few weeks of training, all the while being cooped up in the temple with no one to really connect with outside of his master.

“Precisely.” Master Jinn intoned calmly.

With that one word, Master Jinn had stunned the boy into silence, mouth agape.

It took the young padawan learner a while to find his voice. “What- what do you mean by that Master?” He finally asked after licking his lips, feeling something akin to fear at the lack of knowledge regarding the Master Jedi’s interest and insight into the senator.

“Well let’s think it through then, shall we?” He waved a hand between Anakin and the seated senator. “Why is the council…” He waved his hand vaguely through the air as he tried to come up with a polite word for paranoid, “invested in Senator Kenobi?”

Anakin hesitated, seeing this for the trick question it was but unable to catch the gimmick.

“Because she’s force sensitive.” He phrased it more as a question, face scrunching up as he tried to figure out where the older man was going with this.

“Precisely!” He smiled, cranking up Anakin’s confusion from an already high ten to an eleven. “And what did you sense about her when you reached out with the force?”

“That she was normal.” Again, he phrased it as a question.

Qui-Gon did not tell him he was correct, merely gesturing once more to the seated senator who had begun a vicious attack on the small blond child with a barrage of tickling. And all Anakin could see was a normal person.

A normal person…

A normal person…

A normal person that was once accepted by the Jedi order.

A normal person who was force sensitive.

A normal person who was force sensitive and had no formal training that he knew of.

And yet despite that, Anakin could pick her no better out of the crowd than anyone else. If he didn’t know that he was looking for her already he never would have thought any different of her.

“She’s a normal person…” Anakin said as the realization of what he was playing witness to fully unfurled before him.

“Exactly!” Master Jinn whispered.

* * *

Korkie Kryze had known the love of his family ever since he was born, even during the turbulent final years of the Civil War, before Mandalore had attained peace and rejoined the Republic. He had grown up on the stories told by his uncles Jaster and Jango and their glorious fights on the battlefield. Listened to the ideologies and peaceful dreams of his Auntie Satine and Ba’ba in the quiet hours of the night.

So it was perhaps no shock to anyone that he had been a crying mess two years ago when his beloved Auntie Obi had to leave for what the then four year old interpreted as forever. No longer could he run to her offices when he knew he was in trouble and hide under her desk. There was no one to tell him scary stories when he should be sound asleep. And all the cool things he found in the gardens would go unshared without his ever enthusiastic aunt to gush over his newest discovery.

He had been inconsolable at the time, no one could cheer him up and Satine was just about ready to drag him to the hospital after the third day he hadn’t left his room.

But on the morning of the fourth, there was a knock at the door. But unlike all the others where someone asked if he was ready to come out, there was nothing. It was as if someone had knocked before realizing they had the wrong door. It was very reminiscent of one of Auntie Obi’s pranks.

Throwing off his blanket, Korkie ran to the door, not able to smash his tiny open palm against the button fast enough.

But no one was there.

Looking down, Korkie discovered a box. It was old and worn, carved lovingly from wood and delicately painted with a sleek varnish. It was an antique Auntie Obi would have owned, one of many he had seen in her office in fact.

Gingerly, he picked it up, looking left and right down the hall before retreating once more into the sanctity of his room, opening his closet and crawling into the little cubby he and Auntie made.

_ “Every good little spy needs a base to hide in!” _ Auntie had whispered conspiratorially to him once upon a time.

He opened it, realizing far too late that it was too dark to see what was inside. Nonetheless he took a stab in the dark, popping the lid into a resting position and blindly reaching inside. It was full of a bunch of tiny objects that Korkie couldn’t identify in the dark.

A light came on when his hand brushed against something large and heavy.

“Auntie!” Korkie’s little face lit up as bright as the hologram before him.

“Hello Korkie!” She smiled.

“Auntie, I’ve missed you so much when are you coming back I-”

“Ah ah ah.” She tutted, holding up a single blue finger as she effortlessly silenced him from thousands of systems away. “This is only a recording.” Her smile dimmed along with Korkie’s as he realized he couldn’t talk to his aunt. “But a little bird told me someone hasn’t left his room since I left.” The not-Auntie looked at him with a gleam of mischief in her eye, and Korkie shuffled in his spot in the closet as a blush bloomed across his face in the way only Auntie Obi could do when she used her all powerful weapon, shame. “But don’t you worry, we’ll see each other again! So while I’m gone, I’m entrusting you with a super secret mission!” She leaned in, looked left and then right, before covering her mouth with one hand so only Korkie could hear her. “I need you to watch Auntie Satine. She’s going to be very lonely without me there to annoy- I mean chat with her.” Korkie nodded in understanding, Auntie Satine had seemed very sad at Auntie Obi’s absence. “So man the bucket, raid the pantry, and I expect to see everything you’ve discovered in the gardens when I return. But in the meantime,” She nodded her head and winked at the boy, “I’ve filled this box with candy, a growing boy needs nutrients if he wants to go on a super secret undercover spy mission. And he also needs something to protect his special treasures in his super secret super spy base.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Mando'a dictionary:  
> Ade = child  
> Ba’buir = grandfather/grandmother  
>  -Ba’ba was the nickname Korkie uses for Satine’s uncle Avath Kryze, who is an OC as I cannot find mention of whoever was in charge of the New Mandalorians before her.
> 
> Korkie I think is about the same age as Ahsoka which should put him roughly around six and half years. Anakin should be around eleven and a half.


	6. The Lost

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A trap is set... but for who?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Actual action? It was bound to happen at some point.
> 
> This will be a multi chapter arc, setting up the bulk of events to come.

Within the seedy underbelly of Coruscant, amidst a sea of toxic clouds and burning waste, a dark robed figure kneels before the holographic image of a hooded and hunched figure.

“Have you succeeded in your mission, Darth Tyrannus?” The blue image hissed. His every word dripped a succulent poison that only served to draw his disciple further into his clutches.

“Yes, my master. Everything is going as you instructed.”

The one visible part of the dark man’s face stretched into a triumphant grin through the transmission, taking immense joy from what he was sure to be an entertaining game.

“Excellent! Then I think it is high time we begin the next phase of our plan. But first, a test for the young Senator of Mandalore! It is high time we learn the… extent of her abilities.”

The kneeled figure hesitated, “But the senator is well protected, surely it would reveal us.”

“Fear not, my young apprentice,” The hologram raised a gnarled and withered hand, “I have found us a hunter most worthy of the task. He will bring us the Senator, and shake the feeble foundations of both the Senate- and Mandalore.”

“But if another is to bring in Senator Kenobi, what is to be my objective?”

“You will meet with our new associate and then take the Senator to Malachor.”

“Malachor?”

“Yes!” The blue figure crowed, “I believe that the Senator will be quite vulnerable to the planet’s energies. It will prove most... enlightening!”

* * *

Jango was angry, furious, incensed, a raging storm bottled up in a tiny and insignificant human vessel looking for the smallest crack to unleash itself upon the entire galaxy if he had to.

It had started a normal day, if not one to celebrate. Obi-Wan was to come home, to set aside her duty to their people and spend time with her family after so many months apart. They had talked just this morning. Jango joking about Obi-Wan forgetting her roots and Obi-Wan firing right back about the reason he wasn’t in armor was because he had grown fat and complacent without her there to kick his ass. Fat chance of that! The little ankle biter had been bugging him constantly on when Obi-Wan would be back, only stopping once Satine had dragged him off somewhere. Of course the Mandalorian noble had threatened him with babysitting if she wasn’t informed of Obi-Wan’s arrival.

His ad’ika was supposed to come late in the evening, close to twenty-two hundred, just after she stopped by an outpost on the edge of Mandalorian space for an inspection.

Then nothing.

That was what had them on high alert.

Obi-Wan wasn’t late.

Parties were one thing but Obi-Wan took immense pride in keeping to schedule and setting her political adversaries on the back foot by arriving early.

An hour was her running behind schedule, something that rarely happened without outside interference. And Jango pitied the simpleton that thought it was a good idea to waylay Obi-Wan for foolish reasons. Two hours was pushing it and meant that something bad had taken place.

And Jango had every right to worry as the hour stretched on with no word or communication.

Jango had finished buckling on his boots, strapping on an extra round of slug shots when Jaster arrived. He had been expected to be talked down, told to wait and have faith.

Only for his heart to drop when he met his father’s stony expression and matching armor, helmet tucked under his arm.

They needed no words between the two of them, wordlessly heading out the door.

He had caught sight of Satine and Korkie hiding around the corner as father and son marched out the door prepared for war. The nine year old was clutched tightly to his aunt, eyes moist but he refused to cry, keeping a stiff upper lip. Satine had a slight frown, expression hollow, having aged twenty years in the short span of a day. No doubt remembering the years of hardship that rocked their world and sent their civilization spiraling. It didn’t matter if one was part of a faction, Death Watch, New Mandalorians, True Mandalorians, everyone who walked out the door might never come back. There was a reason Satine had been raised by her uncle.

They took three squads: Jango’s, Jaster’s, and the remnants of Obi-Wan’s.

The flight to the outpost had been tense and silent, no one said a word, everyone already knew what they had to do.

They didn’t know what to expect, but the eerie quiet of the asteroid base had perhaps been the worst.

An active battle meant there was still hope of turning the tide, even if only one man was still standing. Troops cleaning up, enemy or friend, meant there was something to build off of.

But silence… silence only brought back feelings of despair, of grief, of knowing that a family would have to say goodbye for the last time.

A pit began to form in Jango’s stomach while they landed, the heavy sound of metal pistons and the grinding of the landing gear echoed through the air. He was trying to remember something, something important. The door began to open, moving agonizingly slow. The light that wormed its way in through the crack in the door blinded him for only a moment before the filters in his helmet kicked in.

What was it?

Weapons ready, they secured the hangar bay. A fight had taken place here, a big one. Crates were strewn all over, scorch marks decorated the walls and floors, and a door had been ripped from its docking port.

With a few hand signals, they split up into groups of three.

Jaster’s would stay behind and guard their escape, though the man himself would lead Obi-Wan’s group of covert agents to the control room to recover what data they could. Meanwhile Jango’s would look for survivors and possibly track down the individuals who had done this.

There were no bodies in the main hangar, but that quickly changed as they progressed through the maze of corridors and passageways.

He needed to remember.

Bodies were strewn about, intermittently at first, killed by blaster bolt. Jango felt his grip tighten on his weapon as they discovered the carnage that decorated the lower levels. The walls were covered in a layer of blood and viscera, mangled bodies littered the floor, a few pressed into the walls and even smeared along the ceiling. More than a few were ripped in half.

This was no attack, this was a massacre.

Blood pumped through his veins, faster and faster.

What was it?

These men and women had died fighting not men but beasts. What could have done this? Had it been one monster, or several?

It was only their men though… was that it? What was bugging him, eating away at his consciousness?

They switched to night vision as they went deeper.

They were heading towards the central armory, a heavily fortified room that nothing short of an orbital bombardment could break through. Helmets were switched to night vision as the lights first flickered, then dimmed to the emergency red, before finally they were bathed in complete and utter darkness.

They took their time, sweeping through the wreckage, checking every body and building up a grim count.

They had yet to find a survivor.

And with every helmet Jango removed, his heart stopped. All he could see was auburn locks of wavy hair tumbling out as he revealed the victim beneath the armor, only seeing Obi-Wan’s unblinking visage before he could witness the true picture. He should be outraged with each Mando he found, but all he could feel was selfish relief as hope built up.

Obi-Wan was a survivor. Put her on any rock and she’d end up running the place by this time next year.

Obi-Wan… it was something about her… something he needed to remember! What was it?

They finally found the armory doors, blown wide open and warped beyond recognition.

Weapon dropped, Jango dashed through the useless barrier.

“Obi-Wan?!”

Bodies were strewn all over the place, most a mangled mess, crushed and pulverized by some insidious force.

He began ripping off helmets, kicking over bodies, sifting through wreckage and chunks of flesh while wading through pools of blood, anything to find her.

He needed to find her.

He HAD to find her.

“Jango!”

One moment he was pulling off the helmet of one warrior, the next he had dropped them with little ceremony before crossing the room’s threshold with a hurried stride.

From the looks of it, they’d found a survivor, the only one.

“Croix!” Jango shook the woman by the shoulder, “Croix!” He pulled her helmet off, gently, despite his shaking limbs and frenzied panic. She was confused, face changing in more than just expression, a constant look of agony as she tried desperately to come back to them, eyes unfocused and cloudy, pupils dilating as their helmets flashers turned on. The woman had turned a deathly pale, normally green skin taking on a sickly pallor. The light illuminated a constant sheen of sweat that only served to highlight how far the woman had fallen.

“She needs medical attention. Jaster, we found Croix, we need a medic down here yesterday!”

“Croix,” Jango tried desperately to reach the sniper. “Croix, where’s Obi-Wan?!”

For a single moment, Croix had regained full consciousness, blinking owlishly before it was gone.

“Croix! Where’s Obi-Wan, please!”

“Taken.” Her voice was husky, barely above a whisper but it might as well have been a screech with the eerie silence of the entire outpost bearing down on them.

“By who? Who took her?”

_ Who could? _

Croix’s face tightened, her voice failing her.

His heart was caught in his throat as Croix struggled to answer, coughing up blood before Jango’s field medic laid her down. Her wounds were too severe for field treatment, at best they could keep her alive for an hour at best.

Where was that medic?!

One ship took Croix after they had stabilized her condition.

“Jango, you’ll want to see this.” Jaster called him over the comm.

“On my way!” His voice was calm despite the storm of emotion swirling inside him, taking off at a dead sprint to the control room, tripping at the door before recovering.

Jaster stood at the central control computer, Obi-Wan’s splicer hard at work recovering more data. Silently, Jaster pressed a button once Jango had recovered his breath.

The image was spotty, mostly blaster fire and a few of their men taking cover. It would cut off frequently, showing only random pieces of fighting, screams of the dying, and the murder of all who died a warrior’s death.

But finally- they had an answer.

As if to taunt them, their culprit was caught in perfect clarity.

He was a mass of twisted flesh, bits and pieces of metal stabbed into the vile sinewy wall of muscle. A hulking behemoth that shook the ground as he stomped forward, no worse for wear despite having cleaved through countless trained veterans of the Mandalorian Civil War. And in his clutches- Obi-Wan.

Dragged by her neck, held like a dead bird in the jaws of a monster. Jango watched with righteous fury, blood boiling and lips pulled back into a snarl as he watched the beast carry his sister onto his ship and leave.

It was only as he watched the holographic doors shut close that he remembered what was bugging him since he arrived.

He hadn’t said goodbye.

* * *

_ They were running down the halls, accompanied by a small squad of armed troopers as they made their way to the armory. _

_ Croix stood at the head, leading the way, adjustable rifle at the ready as she ducked around corners. At every crossroad the troopers fanned out to cover all routes, at all times keeping Obi-Wan in the middle of them, held up by a shiny new cadet fresh from the academy and barely conscious after taking a hit from that- that- that thing, that monster! _

_ “It’s broken through! We’ll hold it off- AAAUUURRUGGHH!” _

_ “We can’t make contact, it’s blocking our transmission! We can’t call- It’s breaking through the door, battle stations!” _

_ “Hello? Hello? Anyone out there? This is Snaptrap, we got ambushed and I- Augh! Augh! Auuuuuerrrrgghhghghh…” _

_ The rest became static, the journey to the armory composed of metal boots clanging against the hard floor. _

_ “Get this door open yesterday!” _

_ “On it!” _

_ The sound of stomping and more fighting as the men who stayed behind to cover their escape came to blows with the beast. “Positions!” Croix called, falling into a crouch and setting her rifle to the highest setting. She could pierce through the toughest armor a dozen clicks away with a single shot, all she needed was one shot. “How’s that door coming?!” The sound of stomping grew closer, more fighting, the roar of flame throwers, the boom of grenades echoing off the walls like thunder and then… silence. _

_ Under her helmet, Croix could only hear her own baited breath as she waited. A drop of nervous sweat running down her jaw. The sound of groaning metal was music to her ears. _

_ “Inside, now! Get it closed and seal it up!” _

_ “Ma'am?” _ __   
  


_ “Do it!” _

_ “You heard her, get it done now!” _

_ Their rag tag team huddled inside, the doors banging shut with a resounding clang of finality. _

_Croix_ _ could finally breathe. She took Obi-Wan from the cadet’s grasp, telling him to check inventory and get ready. That thing wasn’t going to let them sit here and prepare. How long would it take for someone to notice that something was off? Obi-Wan kept a tight schedule but no one had any reason to think they had come under attack. _

_ She was about to get up and help them with the sealing when she felt a hand clasp tightly to her armor. _

_ “Obi-Wan?” She had never seen her like this. She had known the girl ever since she was a slip of a thing, all gangly limbs and giant eyes. Obi-Wan had always been strong, steady, a pillar that braved every flood and storm with dignity and grace, no matter the hardship. But now, she was clammy and sick, skin pale and slicked with sweat. And though Croix could feel nothing through her armor, she could see Obi-Wan’s grasp was weak, fingers trembling. Worst of all was the fear in her eyes. _

_ Croix had seen Obi-Wan in the worst of situations, with nothing but the shirt on her back and she had always smiled. ‘Nothing throws people off more than a smile when your back is against the wall.’ The current senator of Mandalore would often say. _

_ She had expected the same when they watched the first set of doors dent. How foolish they had been, nothing could have prepared them for that fight. _

_ And the first thing that should have tipped them off was Obi-Wan. _

_ The woman had fallen to her knees, clutching at her mouth as she tried not to gag. Eyes wide with fear as she became paralyzed under some unseen force. _

_ Many of the men and women who were stationed here had fought beside Obi-Wan during the war, none of them had ever seen her so hopeless and helpless. _

_ Again the beast began to pound on the wall, but there were three feet of heavy durasteel between them and it. _

_ Croix should have known it wouldn’t have been so easy, trying to put up a strong front for Obi-Wan like she had done for her so many times before. As Obi-Wan began to cough, quickly transforming into dry heaving, Croix stood up to look for some water. _

_ At first hopeful as the monster roared in rage, the door not budging by a hair. _

_ And then the most curious thing happened, Croix could smell sulfur, glancing towards the door only to cry out in shock. A small red dot had formed, as if the beast was attempting to melt through the heavy metal doors. And then it whitened. _

_ “It can’t get through… can it?” _

_ “No time for that kind of talk! Get read-” _

_ Their world whited out, the sound of metal screeching and warping followed by an intense gust of blazing hot air. _

_ “He’s through! Get ready- AUGH!” _

_ Croix let off a volley of shots, vision a bright sea of white before she was thrown to the side, head smacking against the wall and vision swimming. It felt like she had just been hit by a charging rancor. _

_ She couldn’t tell how many, but she knew without a doubt that several ribs were broken, as well as her arm and her leg. Her breaths coming in raspy gasps before she fell unconscious, vision still a blinding white. _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Anyone else thinking that Anakin training Ashoka is that John Mulaney joke about dog's without horses? Like he was nineteen when the Clone Wars started and given a Padawan shortly after making Knighthood. Like at the start Ashoka was 14 and Anakin was 19, not exactly an age brimming with wisdom and wordly knowledge.

**Author's Note:**

> There is no regular update schedule and this will probably come out in chunks depending on how quickly I can write and not get burned out... much like my other fics that are waiting to be completed...


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